


Oh Shit...

by The_Empress_of_Rakuzan



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, drunkedness, writing letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Empress_of_Rakuzan/pseuds/The_Empress_of_Rakuzan
Summary: Alexander has nights were nobody in the camp will sleep, unless it's together. But Aaron Burr isn't interested, but he's relucant to tell why.(A gift for my lovely boo)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MichaelMell (GalacticTwink)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticTwink/gifts).



Burr sat in his tent scribbling furiously on the desk with his quill. He wanted to finish this before they moved camp, which was a frequent occurrence. Life in the revolutionary camp was rough, and especially so close to Boston, a British held city. Washington always had them training or working around camp, and Burr hardly got at break. Especially with the aids to the General always in his way.  
Someone ran into the side of his tent, spilling the ink and essentially ruining letter. His eyebrows furrowed and his eye twitched. He looked up to the tent flap with a very fake smile. A red faced Alexander Hamilton had been the accuser. Speak of the devil.  
He looked over the man, and he knew instantly what the problem was. Hamilton was half undressed, his tan skin flushed and messy hair strewn about, it's normal ponytail absent. Without his cravat, Burr could observe peculiar marks peppering his neck. Matching ones were showing on his wrist. The Lieutenant Colonel wrinkled his nose. Alexander had been having one of his...events.  
Every so often, Hamilton hosted what could only be called an orgy in the farthest reaches of camp. Burr had never been, but he always knew when they had happened. Alexander would walk funny, Lafayette would be hungover and extremely flamboyant, Laurens would cling to Hamilton like an lost puppy. Even the General, because there were unmistakable signs that his commander joined these gatherings, would be woozy and distance the morning afterwards. And there was always talk among the soldiers who had gone. Sometimes they invited village girls to join, other times it was smaller, just the Aides and the General, other times half the camp had participated. Solider wives and anyone from the foot solider to Washington. But not him.  
"Watch where you are going, Alexander. The camp is dimly lit at this hour, and it would be a shame for you to get hurt." He scolded, dabbing the bit of ink off his jacket with a handkerchief. There was a snort from Hamilton. The younger man leaned up again the desk and grinned at him in a jocular fashion.  
"I know where I'm going, Burr, sir. It's where you're going that's in question." He smirked, offering a hand to Aaron. Hamilton looked pretty confident in where he thought Burr should go. Burr thought otherwise.  
"No. No no no. I have work to do, a letter to rewrite. I can't come with you. No, thank you." He refused curtly, rejecting the hand and remaining in his seat. As if it would actually discourage the immigrant. Nothing really could, as far as Burr had seen.  
"Come on, Burr! Live a little! We are having a great time, you could too! Get a drink, get to literally kiss the General's ass!" He chuckled, laughing uproariously at his own jest. Hamilton put a hand on Aaron's shoulder and in the close proximity, he could smell the reek of alcohol on the other man's breath. That all but sealed his decision on not to go.  
"I'm afraid, I'll pass. I would rather not get myself acquainted with you or the General in that manner. Besides, I have promises to keep and work." He informed, wiggling his right hand to where a silver band twinkled on his finger. Alexander blinked and took his hand to better examine the jewelry. He peered at it and felt the ring and turned his hand over to look at it. To the extent that Burr became self conscious and withdrew his hand.  
"Who's the lucky lady, Burr, sir?" He grinned, a signature tomcat look which made Aaron want to slip into oblivion. Hamilton wasn't going to let this go unnoticed or unannounced.  
"No one you know, Alexander. He's not even a lady." He supplied in a low voice, twisting the ring on his finger with a small smile voice.  
"Oh my lord, even better!" Alexander squealed, squatting down next to Aaron and looking at him with sparkling eyes filled with admiration, "When did this happen, Burr?!"  
"Two weeks ago. Right after we arrived in the Boston area." He had asked Washington's permission to leave for two days, providing his commander with a vague description of where he would be and what he was doing. His lover had insisted on it, less he get in trouble. Although the irony was in that his husband wanted a private wedding. He didn't want his family to know. So they had eloped together.  
"And you didn't tell us?! We could have thrown a party! Come on Lieutenant Colonel! Join us for drinks and fun now, to make up for it!" He nagged, punching him lightly in the side. Burr sighed and shook his head.  
"I'm married! I won't ruin that!" They had made vows on the docks of the Boston harbor, under the full moon. Aaron had fallen in love with him long before then though.  
"You shouldn't have gotten married then! There's a winter's ball! You could have done it then!"  
"But I've know him since Quebec! I was hardly in the army at the time! We write each other letters!" Lots of letters. He kept the lovely calligraphy decorated drafts in his coat. No matter what, he wouldn't burn the parchment for fire or anything else. They were some of very few tokens of his love. The ring was the same way, part of the reason they had wanted to get married.  
Alexander looked almost impressed at his faithfulness.  
"Since Quebec?! Christ, but that was ages ago! He's French Canadian then? I feel you, Lafayette's accent is to die for!" Aaron froze at the words. Not about Lafayette's accent, which he personally found confusing and too thick to understand, but the French Canadian bit. Because he wasn't.  
"Not French Canadian. We met after the battle at Montgomery." Alexander's face twisted, almost filling in with unease. Had Burr said too much? It was one of his worst fears. What he had told Hamilton wasn't the truth. He had met his man on the battle field.  
"Not French Canadian? A normal Canadian? Indian? A fellow American?" His questions were low tone, suspicious. All Aaron could do was shake his head. They had met at arms, with canons deafeningly loud in the background. He wore the Rebel blue. His now husband had worn Royal red.  
"I'm married, that's all that matters. I can't join you. I have things to do." He tried to change the subject, shoo the man out while he still could. But Hamilton was like A blood hound. Once he had a scent, he wouldn't drop it.  
"Married to Who, Burr!" He demanded, face redder with anger than whatever alcohol that had colored it before. He slammed his first on the table and Aaron looked up at him.  
"Married to a British officer! Seabury..." He shot back, defensive in his decision to a fault. Alexander furrowed his eyebrows and his own features contorted into a look of disgust.  
"Samuel Seabury?! That whiny, good for nothing loyalist?! He's a British officer?! He's your husband?!"  
"Yes, Alexander. I would advise you leave now. And don't bother me again with these complaints. That whiny, good for nothing, loyalist is my partner in life." His voice was low and the comment, sharp as a knife, meant to fend off Hamilton's insults. He glared with dark eyes.  
"Hey, I don't want to mess around. But if you ever need to get something other than that Brit's tiny pale dick, tell me." Alexander huffed, and walked out of the tent, probably in pursuit of returning to the gathering. He left Burr unsettled though. Of course, marrying a British officer was a risk and liability. But he recalled Hamilton telling him himself "If you live someone, go get them." That's what He had done.  
On the battlefield, far from the main conflict. That's were Burr had been stationed. A shot had flew right past his head, missing its target. He whipped around and saw a Redcoat, his riffle shaking in his unstable arms. He was young, pale faced and pale hair. 19 maybe. Green eyes locked with Burr's dark ones.  
"Don't shot! I...I need help!" He had stammered, and As his weapon fell out of his arms, the amount of red was overwhelming. Aaron had not hesitated to rush over.  
"Don't worry. Leave your jacket. I'll get you help." The smile was soft, kind and genuine. The man in his arms was weak.  
"Thank you, Burr."  
For two weeks he had puzzled over the man's knowledge of his name. Then they met again, and by chance once more. He recognized him this time.  
Each encounter, they shared secret  
Smiles, talking in code, sneaking from camp in the late hours to meet. Missing on purpose, no matter what the cost. It their fun. But to neither it was a game.  
Sam had insisted on vows. On a ring and a toast to each other. He was staying in Boston, rebel Americans' camp was not far. They had held hands and talked in the cabin of an empty ship, giggles and whispers drowned out by the creaking of the ship. He had promised to write. The letter sat on his desk, the splattering of ink dotting the parchment. He dusted it with powers and blew it dry.  
Before sealing the letter, Aaron took a flower from his pocket and tucked it in the envelope. Then pressed the wax with his seal.  
A letter boy would take it to the city the next day, and Aaron would ponder about its whereabouts as he dealt with the hungover soldiers. But Sam would receive it and smell the fragrant petal, slipping it into the pages of his journal.  
A single petal of a lotus. Faithfulness, from Aaron Burr.


End file.
